


Trying Out a Maybe

by ohjustdisarmalready



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aborted Undertale Genocide Run, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doing Bad Things For Good People, Flavor Text Narrator Chara (Undertale), Gen, Murderer Chara (Undertale), Parallels, Podfic Available, Possession, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sibling Love, Sympathetic Chara, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, also, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustdisarmalready/pseuds/ohjustdisarmalready
Summary: “Allow me to tell you…a story,” the thing wearing a child’s skin says. The words sound like they’ve been dragged through concrete, but its smile is a little less malicious and a little more hollow. That’s…maybe good?Sans shrugs.“sure. i love stories. this one have a happy ending?”It grimaces through that pinned-on smile. Its eyes are flat and dead.“That remains to be seen,” it mutters. It shrugs its shoulders, squirms a little bit. Trying to get comfortable in skin that it doesn’t belong in.“It’s a story about some kid who freed all the monsters,” it says. “They’re…they’re a…good…they’re…”My take on a post-pacifist No Mercy run.
Relationships: Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Chara & Sans (Undertale), Frisk & Sans (Undertale), Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 295





	Trying Out a Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> **edit Dec 2020: there's a podfic!** Please do check out the podfic (link [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSXUPLWgNvA) or at the end of the fic) and the voice actor's [other fan content](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoramDeo/pseuds/CoramDeo/works). I couldn't be more thrilled!
> 
> If Sans seems to be coming up with the same idea for the first time a lot, that's because he is. I'm imagining Sans can't actually remember previous runs any better than anyone else, he just has the ability to make physical things sustain from one to the next, which lets him write notes and put things together.
> 
> Title text indicates when the scene is taking place. Block quoted text is what's written in Sans's notebook.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 113:_

The anomaly shuffles forward. Sans gives a witty one-liner to his audience of one zombie child and a whole lot of dust. Sans kills the anomaly.

In the moment before the world ends, Sans puts another tick in the “kill” box of his notebook.

Double digits. Heh, cool. He bets he can make a joke out of that.

###  _00/00/0000: timeline 113:_

When Sans woke up one day to a massive headache and a SOUL-deep sense of disorientation, the first thing he’d wanted to do was go back to bed. But he hadn’t left bed yet, so that one was a no go.

With a lazy wave of his hand, he dragged his notebook into existence. He did not leave bed as he flipped through it.

Wow. That was, uh, a lot of new entries.

Started out normal. Just a log of observations, little chance happenings to keep an eye on—the result of coin flips, that kind of thing. Random stuff like that was the first sign of something messing with time.

Then it got a bit strange.

> _ 00/00/0000: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  something weird? shift in anchor of spacetime. gotta recalibrate all my shortcuts for new center of temporal gravity. this one isn’t moving around as much. seems to be in the ruins._
> 
> _recalibrating my calendar around today. got a feeling this day’s gonna be important._
> 
> _ 00/00/0000: take 2: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  don’t remember resetting my calendar, so i must be back to the point where i decided to. recalibrating shortcuts._
> 
> _ 00/00/0000: take 3: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  sense of déjà vu getting stronger. could almost remember what paps would say before he said it. didn’t take long to recalibrate. going to check out ruins door. will update_
> 
> _ 00/00/0000: 4: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  apparently didn’t make it to ruins door. trying again. will update_
> 
> _entry 2:  
>  made it to door. nothing strange. new anchor is moving slowly, no clear direction. getting closer?_
> 
> _ 00/01/0000: timeline 4: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  anchor is close to the ruins door. a little upwards. moves around, but not far. could be an object being moved and not a monster?_
> 
> _door lady hasn’t been by._
> 
> _ 00/02/0000: timeline 4: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  nothing new._
> 
> _ 00/03/0000: 4: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  nope._
> 
> _ 00/03/0000: timeline 5: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  apparently this is a second go at today. hard to tell if anything triggered it. anchor is still more or less still. moves maybe 20 meters away from central point, returns there at night._

The entries go on for about a week, sometimes repeating one day or even a just few hours, but mostly moving forward. After four days with no repeats, there’s a whole string of them—day 11 happens five times in a row before its last iteration.

> _ 00/11/0000: timeline 13: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  one more try. if there’s one more repeat, i’m hibernating until today is done._
> 
> _anchor still seems to be getting close to ruins door. either it’s a monster or it’s something a monster is carrying—moves too much to be a household item. what keeps it from getting to the door?_
> 
> _entry 2:  
>  it’s at the door._
> 
> _entry 3:  
>  it’s a human._
> 
> _young. scruffy. striped shirt. pretty banged up, hurt. burns, mostly. been crying. i still haven’t heard from door lady. pretty sure she wouldn’t let this happen to a human if she could help it._
> 
> _going to introduce myself._
> 
> _entry 4:  
>  intro went fine. kid has a sense of humor. terrified of monsters. some bravery under all that. maybe paps would like ‘em._
> 
> _entry 5:  
>  paps likes ‘em. they like paps. even tried to eat his spaghetti. i can see how they got down here; they’ve got no survival drive._
> 
> _entry 6:  
>  kid’s making friends like no tomorrow. might not be impossible to keep them alive. at least through snowdin._

The entries continued, chronicling the adventures of a human child, apparently, as Sans followed them through the entire Underground. As near as he can tell, the center of temporal gravity must have detached itself from whatever it was attached to previously and ended up on the kid. Whenever they died, the timeline fell apart after them, and Sans would wake up a few hours earlier.

Was it that their will to live drove back time whenever they died, or was it that their will to continue onwards sustained the timeline, and it fell apart without them? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

(Egg, obviously. Sans has never even seen a chicken, but Temmies have been around forever).

His notes indicate that other-Sans couldn’t be sure whether the kid was actually aware of the time travel—they seemed to remember at least some things across timelines, up to whole phrases and conversations, but that didn’t mean they knew what was going on. It wasn’t exactly easy to ask without tipping his hand, either.

Apparently, he’d figured out that the time-travel was linked to the kid’s life and then stopped looking. That sounded like him. When stuck with unkillable, potentially extratemporal human child, give up immediately and wait for the end.

That wasn’t the most interesting part, though. Apparently, the kid broke down the barrier. Without dying.

His notes on that part were sketchy as hell and full of gaps—apparently things had been happening too fast to write down, timelines being created and collapsing, something like that. All he could remember was a vague sense of horror and despair that he didn’t want to look too closely at. The notes ended with an entry about what the sky looked like, and a hope that it wouldn’t all be taken away again, then petered back to the normal coin flips and daily happenings. They didn’t reset again.

The kid remained a staple in most entries. Apparently they’d stuck around. Sans had records of pranks played, life events; hell, there’s a couple plans for a birthday gift scribbled down. Alternate-future-Sans had been so unworried about the timeline getting fucked up again that he’d used his painstakingly-constructed time-proof notebook to brainstorm birthday presents.

And look how well that turned out for him.

It wasn’t clear what exactly caused that timeline to collapse. There are a couple notes in the notebook, half-pursued; things like:

> _ 03/25/0002: 74: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  kid’s been quiet lately. tori’s upset. human thing? i’ll bring ‘em home after school tomorrow, paps can cheer anyone up._
> 
> _ 03/28/0002: 74: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  something weird about how the kid looked at me today. probably imagining it. i’m seeing trouble where there isn’t any._
> 
> _ 03/29/0002: 74: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  kid doesn’t seem all there. they’re spacing out. talking to themself. getting sick? how bad is getting sick for humans?_
> 
> _entry 2:  
>  they say they’re fine. they’re probably fine._
> 
> _ 03/30/0002: 74: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  figured out what’s weird. kid’s smiling more. kind of a creepy smile, but hey, if they’re happy, right?_
> 
> _ 04/02/0002: 74: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  i think something’s wr_

And the log ends.

The timeline must have fallen apart pretty suddenly, or he would have written something more helpful than “i think something’s wrong.” Maybe he’d been planning on noting what something was wrong _with_. Didn’t matter anymore, though; whatever progress he’d made in that timeline was gone. Sans had never seen the sky.

On a hunch, he checked his lab out—sure enough, there was a picture there, with himself and Papyrus and some other familiar faces, alongside a goat monster and a human child he’d never seen before. Each of them filled him with a sense of nostalgia.

_welp. fuck_.

Sans groaned and covered his eyes.

Even if he didn’t remember it, he’d already done this. All of this. He didn’t want to do it all again. He wanted to curl up in bed until it was all over. _ughhhhh_.

Then he hauled himself out of his bed. Taking a moment was fine, but thinking like that for too long led nowhere good.

Okay. Okay. Moment of despair over. What could he do from here?

Well, if his old timeline matched up, he had a few days until the kid showed up, and then he could try to feel them out to see what they remembered. They might have a clue as to how the world had gotten set back so far; if they controlled the timeline consciously, maybe he could convince them to _not_ erase all of their progress next time.

He was inclined to think that they didn’t control it completely, though. His notes were sparse, but it seemed like they’d been surrounded by family, and monsters were happy on the surface. Sans can’t imagine that anyone would intentionally destroy that—not to mention all the effort they were signing themself up for in order to get the monsters to the surface again. Their trip through the Underground didn’t sound like a cakewalk.

No, something else must have caused this latest disruption in the timeline. The possibility existed that the kid would know what it was—apparently they’d been struggling with _something_ towards the end, possibly, maybe.

Had they lost, and the timeline unraveled itself until they existed to stabilize it again? Or was it a desperation move, leaping blindly back to the strongest checkpoint they could find in order to escape some enemy? Maybe they couldn’t sustain the timeline past a certain point without help, and what he’d noticed in his notes was the effects of overextended DETERMINATION in a human? Or something else entirely?

Yeah, he’d need to talk to the kid. Even if the worst came to worst and they couldn’t help at all with the timelines, they apparently had the key to getting the barrier down without bloodshed. That was something Sans would be happy to see.

And going by the notebook, Sans liked the kid, once upon a timeline. He was almost looking forward to meeting them again.

That was before they stumbled through the door to the ruins, covered in dust.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 114:_

Now, Sans isn’t totally sure how humans work—biology has never been his strong point. But he knows that, whatever else this thing may be, it isn’t human. It isn’t a monster, either.

He’s pretty sure his alternate-timeline selves should also have been able to recognize that this jerking, stilted thing can’t possibly be human.

It sure does smile, though. It has a paralyzed, rigid smile on its face through its entire trip through the Underground. Sometimes it mutters to itself. Sometimes it laughs.

It’s not a happy sound.

Glancing over his notebook, he can see he’s up to his eleventh time putting it down. Fun.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 123:_

Sans is revising his theory for how this reset happened.

As far as Sans can tell, the actual human—the first inhabitant of the body that now hosts the thing slaughtering its way through the Underground—must have been the first victim of this…mess.

His notes on them—doesn’t talk much, would rather run away than fight, stops to play with any puzzle or monster they can find—they just don’t match up with what he’s seen from this thing. And the way it moves…no, this thing isn’t the original owner of this body.

Either some time before the last timeline unraveled or soon into this one, something happened. The kid he could have known is gone. He can only hope they’re dead, so they don’t have to see what their body’s done. If not…

Poor kid. He’d taken a minute to care about that, way back when. Early on, he’d taken half a minute to mourn the human, lost or trapped beneath whatever ate them up. He hadn’t known then that there would be mourning to spare.

He kills the anomaly again.

_sorry, buddy. if you’re in there…i hope i’m putting you out of your misery._ It’s the only MERCY he can give them.

He ticks out another mark in the “kill” box.

There’s twenty.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 200:_

Whatever this thing may or may not be, it sure likes fighting.

Sans evades another swing, and another, and another, and the anomaly’s eyes are lit up with some inner fire. It looks awake and alert, its uneven movements working to its advantage in dodging and attacking. It giggles.

Sans smiles back, because he hates this thing with a passion.

He kills it.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 313:_

This is almost getting…well. Anything it could be getting to, it’s already passed. Fucked up, messy, pathetic…

He’s killed the thing well over a hundred times.

That’s the kicker, though, isn’t it? Sans isn’t a time traveler. The anomaly only has to win once. If Sans wants to win, he has to win every single time, unto eternity.

All he can do is keep killing it and cling to the one HOPE he has left: maybe, one of these times, it’ll _take a hint_ and not come back. Maybe that’ll happen before it finds a way to kill him. Hundred and eleventh time’s the charm, right?

Sans can kill it in any individual timeline…but he doesn’t have the power to stop it forever.

But maybe…

Maybe…with what power he has…he can SAVE something else.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 314:_

“so, i’ve got this idea,” Sans says, as the anomaly approaches, before combat starts. “it’s a story about some kid who freed all the monsters.”

The anomaly snarls. “I don’t care.”

“ok.”

Sans kills it. It seems…almost surprised.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 315:_

“so, i’ve got this idea,” Sans says. “it’s a story about some kid who freed all the monsters.”

Judging by the anomaly’s total lack of surprise, he’s tried this tack before. But it’s not actively trying to kill him—it might just listen, anyway. Worth a shot.

“it starts with them leaving the underground. does that sound right?” He prompts.

The anomaly stares at him with dead eyes.

“right-o. then, maybe a couple years after they’ve all gotten out…something happens. something starts happening to this kid.” Sans grins humorlessly. “there’s some pretty great monsters around, so they notice something fishy is up. they woulda helped…but it’s too late, isn’t it? they’re already gone.”

He winks his right eye, and wiggles his fingers to indicate something disappearing. The kid, the timeline, all of it.

The anomaly’s fingers flex around the rusty knife it’s holding. Bingo.

“see, there’s not much i can do with that. you gotta give me something, here,” he says. “‘cause what i’ve got is, uh, it’s not a happy story. don’t you want a happy ending?”

The anomaly throws itself at him with a strangled scream, and combat begins again.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 316:_

Sans briefs through his journal for notes…shit, looks like he’s killed this thing a _lot_. It sure is determined.

The last note reads:

> _ 00/02/0000: timeline 315: _
> 
> _entry 1:  
>  tried talking. seems i’m on the right track wrt something happening on surface, before reset. “don’t you want a happy ending?” made it attack. trying to erase traces/actions of the original human? stop them from coming back?_

Sans snaps his journal shut and waits—sure enough, it takes seconds for the anomaly to be back.

This time, it hangs back, glaring at him.

He smiles patiently. After all, they have all the time in the world.

…wow. That thing sure can stare, can’t it?

Is that the beginnings of desperation in its eyes?

It dashes at him. He kills it.

> _ 00/02/0000: timeline 316: _
> 
> _kills: 213\. it’s getting sloppy._

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 317:_

The anomaly shuffles down the hallway again. Stops. Glares.

“hey, buddy,” Sans says. “looks to me like you don’t want to fight me anymore. and after only 213 tries? you kinda suck at this.”

It continues to stare. Its lips are moving, but he can’t hear what it’s saying.

“you’re gonna have to speak up if you want to talk to me,” he says.

“…Sans the skeleton. He likes puns and ketchup and he used to like his brother, except he doesn’t anymore, because I killed him.”

Sans kills it.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 319:_

The anomaly makes a weird amount of eye contact.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 322:_

Sans hits it just wrong, once—or just right. Its soul cracks down the middle, but takes a second to actually shatter. Its head struggles up from where it’s hanging, limp, from his attacks.

“Sans…Sans. You—you remember Sans. Wake up. You…”

The soul shatters.

> _ 00/02/0000: timeline 322: _
> 
> _kills: 219\. “wake up”??_

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 323:_

Sans doesn’t know what the last entry in his journal means, exactly, but apparently he’s killed this thing over 200 times, so he’ll try anything at this point.

Is it trying to get him to remember something?

“hey. kid. ‘wake up?’” he says, as soon as the anomaly approaches.

It freezes. Cocks its head like it’s listening for something. Its eyes unfocus, then shoot straight to Sans and stay on him, steady and unwavering. Definitely not trying to get him to remember whatever it is, or it’d be saying something, right? But…what is it listening for?

A long, tense moment passes.

The anomaly shakes its head. Growls. “Not good enough.”

It rushes him. He kills it again.

> _ 00/02/0000: timeline 322: _
> 
> _kills: 220\. it’s trying to wake something up. all of us, all of this. it’s been using us to_

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 324:_

“didn’t anybody ever tell you not to play games with other people’s lives?” Sans asks.

The anomaly laughs at him.

“ok.”

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 328:_

If the anomaly can try waking up unknown forces, Sans can do that, too. And there’s only one potential ally whose dust he hasn’t seen personally.

Maybe this idea isn’t as crazy as it’d seemed.

_human kid, you’d better be as good as the other sans thought you were_ …

Because _this_ Sans doesn’t know how long he can keep this up.

“i know you didn't answer me before, but…somewhere in there. i can feel it. there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. someone who, in another time, might have even been…a friend?”

The anomaly stiffens. It watches him, transfixed. Good sign or bad one? Is the human fighting it?

“c'mon, buddy. do you remember me? please, if you're listening…let's forget all of this, ok? just lay down your weapon, and…well, my job will be a lot easier.”

Once the human’s in control, he can kill it, and the kid can reset back to when they fell. They can fix this. _come on, kiddo_.

It’s staring. He searches for any change, any conflict in its expression—any loosening in its grip on the knife, any faltering in its stance; anything.

It seems to be looking for something, too.

Neither of them get what they want.

“welp, it was worth a shot. guess you like doing things the hard way, huh?”

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 359:_

Sans comes to. He’s—he’s exactly where he was a second ago. He’s in the hall.

He’s not dead.

He can’t stop himself from putting his hand over his shirt, but…it’s whole. He’s not hurt. He’s not even tired. Because he’s just been waiting for the anomaly, who hasn’t come by yet.

The anomaly, who just killed him. And then came back.

It’s shuffling closer.

“that expression you’re wearing…”

It continues approaching.

“well, i won’t grace it with a description.”

It stops in front of him. It’s muttering.

“sorry, pal. my ears aren’t what they used to be. come again?”

It’s looking at his whole, un-sliced shirt, too.

“I killed him,” it says. Its voice breaks.

“uh, you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, buddy. ‘cause, from where i’m standing…there’s not much of anybody you _didn’t_ kill.”

He’s got a terrible feeling they’re not talking to him, though.

They don’t even bother starting a battle. They swing wildly at him with that knife they like to carry around. He doesn’t even have to move to avoid it.

He kind of wants to start the battle and kill them already, because the him of _this_ timeline hasn’t gotten the chance to kill this freak yet, and they unquestionably deserve it. But he’s got some pretty strong evidence that that won’t work out so well for him.

“I—I killed him! I killed everyone! I killed…I. I killed everyone. I’m going to—I’m going to erase this—I’m going to—” the anomaly shakes; spine-wracking, terrible trembles that make the rusty knife rattle like bones in their grasp. “I am going to destroy this world…I am going to…destroy…every world. Everything you—everything you—ever—worked—”

It’s gasping, hiccupping, staring at Sans like he can offer it some answer. But it’s not speaking to him, is it? Not really.

He already knows where this ends—the end of all timelines. The last death throes of the universe. It can’t be holding the future over his head, because he’s already given it his all, somewhere around 300 times.

So who is it talking to?

The knife clatters to the floor, and the anomaly falls after it, clutching it back up immediately like some sort of fucked-up safety blanket.

Hmm. Kill it now, or see where this apparent crisis of conscience goes?

Sans touches Papyrus’s scarf.

He kills it.

“if we’re really friends…you won’t come back.”

One more tally.

###  _00/02/0000: timeline 369 (nice):_

The anomaly staggers forwards, and tries to kill him. He offers to SPARE it. It refuses. It keeps…refusing…to die.

Sans is…tired.

Time to bring out his special attack.

“here goes nothing,” he says.

“in my personal opinion…” he says. “the most "determined" thing you can do here? is to, uh, completely give up. and…do literally anything else.”

The anomaly glares furiously at him, standing across from him, but doesn’t move from where he’s pinned it. Heh, he must have gotten it with this one already. Maybe he killed it when it stopped paying attention, let its guard down…that kind of sounds like him.

He might do that again, in a minute. Just as soon as he can drag up the energy to summon a single attack. As soon as he can…

“What else?” the anomaly grits out.

“huh?” He wasn’t actually expecting it to try to communicate. It’s been silent this whole time, save for grunts of effort or pain. His notes do say that it can speak, though.

“What else…can I do? What else can I try?” it growls out. “What haven’t I tried? I’ve killed…I’ve killed almost everyone. I’m out of people they would care about. I’m out of…of things I can do. Nothing works. Nothing _works_!”

It shifts restlessly in the bullet box, but with effort, he drags it back to the center and pins it there again. He doesn’t know if it can manage to attack him on his turn, but he’s not finding out.

Everyone “they” would care about, huh?

Well, he supposes it could be talking about anyone, but there’s only one SOUL unaccounted for, in Sans’s book.

“so, you’re, uh. you’re just killing us…because we were friends with…the human? in some other timeline? and that’s why we all deserve to die?” What a sicko.

The anomaly scowls. It scuffs its feet on the floor. Like Papyrus did when he was a baby bones, sulking over…

Well. Any sympathy Sans might have had for this thing is well and truly dead.

“I would put it back,” the thing that murdered his brother mutters. It’s funny, but despite the jerky, possessed movements, it almost does look like the little kid it’s taken over.

“Once I…once I, after, I, I would put it back. Reset it all. No one is really dead.”

Sans can’t suppress the snarl that builds up in his marrow. Papyrus is _really dead_. The lady behind the door is _really dead_. Undyne is _really_ …so much worse than dead. Everyone this thing has killed, everyone they’ve cut down chasing after…whatever they want; no matter what they do to the timeline, they’ll still be a _dirty brother-killer_. They don’t _get_ to get off scot-free for the murder of Sans’s entire species.

Sans can almost drudge up the energy for that last attack, now.

The anomaly seems to realize its misstep, immediately looking around itself, back on guard.

Time to wait some more. He’ll kill it. He’ll kill it. But this is really going to be his last chance, if he attacks and lets his turn end. He _really_ doesn’t think he can manage another attack after this.

He won’t waste it.

“Allow me to tell you…a story,” the thing wearing a child’s skin says. The words sound like they’ve been dragged through concrete, but its smile is a little less malicious and a little more hollow. That’s…maybe good?

Sans shrugs.

“sure. i love stories. this one have a happy ending?”

It grimaces through that pinned-on smile. Its eyes are flat and dead.

“That remains to be seen,” it mutters. It shrugs its shoulders, squirms a little bit. Trying to get comfortable in skin that it doesn’t belong in.

“It’s a story about some kid who freed all the monsters,” it says. “They’re…they’re a…good…they’re…”

It shakes itself. “They leave…the Underground. With all the other monsters. They’re…happy.”

The anomaly’s eyes soften, just a fraction. It has too much LOVE to truly care about another person, but it at least expresses a memory of devotion.

Sans itches to write this down. He _yearns_ to kill this thing before it can keep talking, before it can try to excuse itself for the atrocities it’s responsible for. But he needs the information.

A creeping thought, not yet a hope, flickers in the corner of Sans’s SOUL. He needs to know more to figure out if it’s possible. If he’s ever going to get this thing to give the human back and get the ‘happy ending’ again.

Maybe…he can convince it. It’s too late for this timeline, for this Sans who’s already lost everything he ever took for granted.

But maybe some other Sans can have his brother and his friends back. Maybe that Sans will remember just enough to tell Papyrus he loves him just one more time. Just to make sure he knows. Maybe.

You really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

The anomaly’s brief softness fades almost immediately, but Sans saw it. It wants something—something to do with the original human. If he can convince it that he knows how to make that happen, maybe he can get it to start over. Maybe. Maybe.

The anomaly continues.

“The child…they’re disappointed in themself, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t SAVE everyone. But they have…no reason not to be happy, right? Everyone is free. They’re the angel everyone was waiting for. They are the future of humans and monsters.” This is said with some bitterness. Resentment? Jealousy? Or does the anomaly just not believe in happy endings?

“sounds like a hell of a burden,” Sans prods.

The glare the anomaly cuts at him tells him he’s not sneaky, but it nods. “Indeed.”

“They’re happy, for a time. They have everything they’ve ever wanted, like some kind of dream that they never wake up from. Like magic.” It snorts. “They’re _so_ happy. They love everyone _so much_. They’re a good child, a quiet child, an independent…”

It shakes its head. Its movements are a little less jerky, a little more emphatic. Interesting.

“They’re the ambassador between humans and monsters, they spend all their time with a family that can’t imagine a child being unloved. No one understands. Everyone loves them. Everyone _needs_ them. Everyone needs them, _personally_ , to solve every last dispute, every tiff between neighbors, to mediate between the fire department and New Grillby’s, to smile and wave here, to tell the humans how much they love their new family, to convince everyone that peace really is an answer…”

Sans can see where this goes.

“i’m gonna guess it doesn’t work out like that,” he says.

The anomaly sneers.

“They already—they already wanted to die! They climbed Mount Ebott in the first place! But no one asks, no one wants to think about whether they—no one _cares_! They just ask for help with their _stupid_ problems, and whisper about how humans are bad _which they are_ , but it _hurts_ , and if you’re not a human and you’re not a monster, and the humans don’t want you but the monsters don’t understand you, and everyone only loves you for what you can do for them and—you, Sans, you just admitted that you were gonna pretend to like us so we wouldn’t reset with your ‘good friends bad laughs’ shit, and, that’s, that’s not real, and it’s all—”

Its voice tumbles out in a rush, so fast it’s gasping around the words, and it tugs on its hair and huffs before trying again.

“The things they loved…became things that they didn’t hate. Things they lived through became things that were killing them. They started asking _me_ to cover for them—me! You’ve _seen_ my people skills! My entire repertoire is ‘kill’ or ‘be killed!’” It shakes its head.

This is…maybe matching up with Sans’s notes? It makes sense, anyway—he’d noticed the human being weird, and the uptick in smiling could possibly be chalked up to the anomaly…covering for them? Somehow? It sure does smile a lot—even now, echoing a long-ago frustration born of an even-longer-lost compassion, it bares its teeth.

But one thing still doesn’t make sense.

In that picture in his lab, he ruffles the kid’s hair, and Alphys and Undyne look deeply into one another’s eyes at the side. Hell, even Papyrus is pretty intuitive about emotional stuff, when he remembers to pay attention. And he sure has—had—put up with Sans’s faltering will to live.

And his notes…he doesn’t lie to himself in his notes. Not ever. And his notes say he _loved_ the kid. They were family. They’d had family all around them.

Sans can understand feeling unloved, and horribly, crushingly alone, even when surrounded by people who love you. He knows what it’s like to see how very fragile the whole world around you is, how easily this time can be ripped away from you. He knows the weight of secrets, and how they can eat you up inside. A little human, even a DETERMINED one, could crumple under that pressure alone, even without being a political figure.

But with that group of monsters around them, _someone_ should have recognized the kind of depressive spiral the anomaly is recounting. Someone would have said something. Right?

“this kid, though, why didn’t they ask for help? sounds like someone out there really cared about them.”

The anomaly scowls and looks away. It’s still alert, but if he could get it to drop its guard just a little more, he could probably finish it off…

Information first. Revenge second.

“They were…they really _are_ independent. They got through the whole Underground with no one but me to help them.”

Sans finds that hard to believe. He made a promise to protect the next human through that door, after all. He must have been there, right?

“And they…there are just…”

It looks away from him.

“There are some things that…most monsters will never…” it says, shifting restlessly. Sans continues to pull it back to center when it strays too close for comfort. It does still have that knife.

“For humans…humans can have children by accident. Sloppily. They can have children when they’re not ready, when they’re not old enough, when they never even wanted them. And they don’t have to love their children. They don’t have to cherish them.” The anomaly crosses its arms. Or maybe it hugs itself.

“so, this kid’s human family…?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t press them about it. I just know that they didn’t…” It scowled. “By the time they fell, they…didn’t trust people very much. Not when it came to asking for help. I could sometimes convince them to, if it was life or death, but…”

It looks…regretful. It must be a really good actor.

“I tried telling them that monsters are different from humans, but I guess it’s difficult to sell that when each member of their family had killed them before. Really fosters a sense of ‘independence.’” The air quotes are audible.

Sans had definitely never written about killing the kid in his log. Unless that’s why he stopped investigating the time anomalies? But why would he just murder some human kid he’d promised to protect?

Present circumstances aside, of course. He gets the feeling the original human wasn’t exactly running killing sprees.

The anomaly seems to notice his objections before he can decide whether to ask or not. It rolls its eyes, somehow the most human gesture he’s seen from it yet.

“Fine. You didn’t kill them, congratulations, you win the ‘good person’ award. You threatened them, but you never actually tried to murder them. _I_ thought it was a low bar, but it meant something to them. And your brother _only_ beat them unconscious and locked them in a freezing cold shed with _dog food_.”

Heh. Apparently Sans really is that transparent.

“I was…actually trying to get them to talk to one of you, before. I would have preferred Papyrus, but…neither of you would have resented a moment of weakness, I think.”

Actually, Sans resents everything this thing has ever done, touched, or been involved with; and given a second chance, he would never let it anywhere near his brother, himself, or any other monster.

But…the anomaly wasn’t in control at that point…as far as other-Sans was concerned, it didn’t exist. He would have just seen a friend in need of serious intervention. If nothing else, he could have checked in with them like he was doing with Alphys, before all this, just to keep each other afloat. Maybe other-Sans would have even been with it enough to really make a difference. And Papyrus is the _best_ monster to call if you need to remember that someone out there really cares about you.

If the human had come to him or Papyrus for help, maybe it never would have come to this.

“Obviously, I could not convince them, but…I think I was close. I genuinely thought that they would talk to someone before making any hasty decisions.” Some tug of remembered grief flits across the anomaly’s smile before it returns, more strained than before. It clashes with the utter disappointment in their eyes.

“they didn’t, though?” Sans asks, feeling some tug of disappointment himself.

The anomaly shakes their head, something in their posture relaxing a touch, a little less frenetic now that they’ve said their piece. “They asked me to take over for them for one more day so they could rest, and then they’d talk to someone once they woke up. They promised. But they never…”

Is this what they wanted? Just to…confess their failure to SAVE their…host? Or…

Oh. _Wake up_.

Oh, kid. That’s not how this works.

The anomaly glances warily around, as if he’s gonna stab them in the back mid-story…which he might have done before. He still kind of wants to. The whole monster race, slaughtered for a distant chance to SAVE one life?

“They wouldn’t ask for help. They wouldn’t let anyone know how bad it was until it was too late. Not even me.” They hug themself—or maybe they’re trying to hug the kid whose corpse they’ve been wearing all this time. “I thought I knew—I thought it wasn’t that bad yet—I thought I had more _time_ —I just—”

They cut themself off, arms tightening like they can hold in the hurt. Their smile falters.

“so they…‘fell down,’” Sans says.

The anomaly nods. It looks at him, awaiting judgement.

_huh_.

“huh. that’s, uh, that’s pretty…rough stuff, buddy. not…really what i was expecting, if i’m gonna be honest,” Sans confesses. Eye for an eye, right? “i was thinking more…‘killed them to possess their body and go on a genocidal rampage and then destroy the world.’”

The anomaly snarls, eyes suspiciously bright. Oh, no. Crying.

Sans doesn’t know whether he wants to, like…murder it painfully, or…just leave. Leave it alone with the empty, dusty world it’s rent asunder in its grief. Let it know what real guilt is, if it’s even capable of feeling that anymore.

The void-black tears threatening to spill out of its eyes seem to imply that it is.

“They were…they—I—I—I failed to—to protect…my brother,” the anomaly refuses to sob, but its panting, ragged breaths aren’t much better. Sans…pretends not to notice.

What’s this about a brother?

“I—when I had the chance, I, I pushed him. I thought—I thought I could just—kill anyone who would hurt him, and protect him. They were—they were just humans. Who cares if I kill a few humans? They weren’t even good humans.” The words stutter out, and then, like a dam breaking, they rush through. Sans can barely understand them through the choppy gasps.

“I thought, I—I got him, I got him killed, because I’m—because I’m not a good person! I’m—violent, and impulsive, and I—manipulated him into it, didn’t I? He didn’t want to, and I _made_ him, and I thought—maybe when—when I woke up again, and I was—in somebody’s soul—I thought, maybe I…m-maybe I’ll get—a second chance,” the anomaly gasps, sinking to the ground, clinging to its knife.

It isn’t really making any sense, lost in some remembered hysterics.

It’s…pathetic.

“I thought…I’d be good, this time. I’d do it right. I’d let them SPARE—I’d help them SAVE everyone. I’d protect them right this time. I can’t—I can’t bring Asriel back, but, but this time…I can do better than I did. Be better. If I just stand back, let them make the decisions, just—just don’t interfere, I can—I can not fail them. This time. I can be a better friend to them than I was to Asriel. A…a better sibling. I can…maybe, if I try, even I can be…better.” Sans notes the reference to the fallen prince in the back of his mind, watching as the anomaly curls in on itself.

It’s suffering. It’s feeling at least a fraction of the pain it _deserves_.

It’s…pitiful.

If he’s is interpreting this right…

Sans can imagine a world…a world where he lost one brother, because he was shortsighted and a second too late and paying attention to all the wrong things. And if, after that, Papyrus “fell down,” and Sans could have done something but he _didn’t_ , not in time…if Sans had to live through the loss of both of his siblings, and each of them were _his_ negligence and _his_ carelessness and _his fault_ …

Sans stops imagining it.

Hell, he’s already near enough to that, isn’t he?

“If I…if I can’t SAVE them…if I can’t—I thought, when they stopped responding, I thought they were still sleeping. I thought, I just needed to cover for them—for—for a day or two. No more than a week. And then, we’d get help, and things would get better. And I can, I can still _feel_ them, they’re still _here_! So they’re not gone! I just—I just need to make them wake up, and it’ll be okay again! But they—they wouldn’t, no matter what, they wouldn’t wake up, and I couldn’t let everyone look at me and call me _their_ name and _steal their life from under them_ , without anyone ever knowing they were _gone_ , and I thought—Asriel f-fought me when I wanted to kill all those people.”

The kid is stooped so low, their head is nearly touching the ground. Sans could break their neck even without magic right now, if he just stepped on it wrong.

“so. when your sibling ‘went to sleep,’ you figured they’d come back if you just killed all their friends?” Sans can’t seem to make his voice as hard as he wants it to be. This _thing_ has killed everyone; has gone through everything he’d ever managed to salvage when his own life fell to pieces…

They’re curling around that knife like it’s a last shot of redemption.

If it meant he could have Papyrus back, even for a second, even if Paps hated him for what he’d done for the rest of their lives…Sans would kill any number of humans. Has killed one human already, hundreds of times. A human that, by all accounts, used to be a dear friend.

The anomaly _keens_. Black drips across the floor under their eyes.

Sans has won this battle more thoroughly than violence ever could. He…to be honest, he feels a little bad.

But now’s not the time to get cocky and sentimental. He’s still dealing with a violent, unstable kid whose LOVE is too high to be trusted. He needs to consider his next move carefully.

If he does this just right, maybe…

But if he does it wrong, well, people like Sans don’t get to go back and fix their mistakes.

Sans plops himself down on the floor a bit out of arm’s reach and thinks fast.

_how to stop the anomaly for as long as possible?  
change its mind._

_how to change its mind?  
convince it i have what it wants, or i can get it if it’ll stop killing people. might be able to appeal to guilt._

_what does it want?  
its sibling back. a second-second chance._

_they just wanted their sibling back._

Sans kneels on the floor of the golden hall opposite this crying child, this merciless killer, and holds on to Papyrus’s scarf just as tightly as they hold their knife.

For the first time, the scarf’s weight on his shoulders isn’t an enraging reminder of what he’s lost; what they’ve _taken_ from him. It isn’t motivation to fight harder, taunt more cruelly. It isn’t something he can use to power his hate.

He feels…briefly ashamed, that he would use Papyrus like that. He knows full well it isn’t what his brother would have wanted…hell, if Paps were here, he’d probably still be offering the kid a shoulder to cry on, even knowing what they did. It’s something he’s always admired in his brother. Paps really did believe that people could change, if they just tried.

Some part of Sans struggles desperately to hold on to his rage, his vengeance…but it melts into dust in his hands.

Despite his best efforts…Sans’s SOUL is made of love, and hope, and compassion.

He’s lost every last hope save for one; but he loves, loves, loves his brother, and the underworld that has become home, and in some distant corner of his aching SOUL he loves the family he could-have-made on the surface. And even though ten minutes ago he would have _relished_ seeing the anomaly crying on the floor…

Maybe Sans’s LOVE is a bit too high, too. Maybe he’s been looking in all the wrong directions. Maybe the terror that haunts his nightmares, the end of the world incarnate, the _anomaly_ …

Maybe they could have understood each other, in another world.

The kid is winding down, he can see. It’s not that the pain is any less, but they’re running out of energy to cry and scream and hate everything. They’re just shaking, curled over a rusty knife on the floor. Sans can relate.

_paps, i hope you’re proud of me_ , Sans thinks, and does the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

Maybe even he can be better than he is.

_Flumph_. The fabric makes a sound, loud in the echoing hall, as it spreads over the kid’s shoulders. They jerk hard, and hold a wince for a second—and when they don’t die, they look up.

Their face is stained with black tears, and their eyes are red and puffy as they investigate the red fabric over their shoulders.

Sans still wants to kill them a little bit more, seeing his brother’s scarf on them—his brother who they’d _murdered_ , who they’d _turned to dust_ , who’s _GONE_ —but not as much as he was expecting to.

The scarf wraps around them like the hug Papyrus would give them, if he were here; the hug Sans can’t, can’t, _can’t_ offer them. Not in this timeline.

“I don’t…understand,” the child says. Their voice breaks.

Sans can barely believe he’s doing this either, but he is. He is.

He ducks his head a little, like you’re supposed to do with scared kids. He keeps his movements smooth and slow, ready to stop at the first reaction, as he sits down just a little closer.

“…kiddo,” he says.

A fresh tear pours out of the anomaly, and they pull Papyrus’s scarf around them with both hands—leaving the knife on the floor in a pool of black.

They huddle down, and again, they await judgement.

“bud, you went about this all wrong,” Sans says. “like, way wrong. totally the wrong way. this one’s no good. and you know that, or we’d still be fighting.”

He heaves a sigh and forces himself to not go down that path.

“what you’re trying…going against everything they would’ve wanted…that’s not gonna make them come back. they’re not gonna come back to this…nightmare you made. no matter what you do.” He can’t even enjoy the way the kid flinches, the white-knuckled grasp they have on the scarf; like it’s the only thing that hasn’t been taken away from them.

“I—I—” they stutter, but they fall silent. There’s nothing to be said.

“‘sides, when they come back, we want them to be coming back to a world they can love, right? somewhere where they can be happy, this time. none of this,” he gestures to the hall, the blood, the blackened tears and dust.

The kid stares.

Sans chuckles.

“heh. bet you thought i’d say, ‘you can’t bring the dead back to life,’ huh?” At least he can still surprise the time-traveling immortal ghost child.

“I…thought you would have killed me by now,” the kid confesses.

Sans takes a risk and folds his arms behind his head. “nah. sounds like work.”

They goggle. It looks…kind of hilarious, he’s pretty sure, to that distant part of him that does things like ‘joke around’ and ‘make friends’ without killing kids while he’s at it.

“You really…you really think they’ll come back? If I put everything right?” the child asks, looking at him like he’s got the keys to the kingdom all wrapped up in the last thread keeping them alive.

With all the dust caked on them still, he feels kind of gross being on the receiving end of that look. But…well. If he can get this right, those monsters won’t be dead much longer, and this-Sans’s opinions won’t matter. All up to next-Sans from here.

He winks his left eye. The kid startles.

“hey. let’s think of it this way, ok? if you wanted to take an extended vacation from life, and you came back, and your sibling trashed your room and killed all your friends, you’d walk right back out the door, right?” He sits up and holds out one hand.

“but if you look back over your shoulder and you see they cleaned your room, they did your homework, whatever it is you kids do…if they tried real hard to fix what they can of the stuff they broke, and they’re ready to help you with the rest of it, whenever you’re ready…wouldn’t you want to come home, a little more?” He holds out his other hand, pretending to weigh them for a second before sending one shooting up as the other crashes down.

The kid furrows their brow in a look of deep concentration.

“If I…if I try again, but I do it right this time…I can make sure we don’t agree to be Ambassador. Or, I can make it so we only do work when we’re on duty. And…I can make sure…that they know to talk to people. And that there are people to talk to,” they try.

Sans cocks his head. “that sound a little nicer to come back to than a dusty, empty hellscape?”

The kid continues—they’re on a roll. Go, kid.

“I can—even if they don’t come back, right away—I can make sure they know…that they have a life to return to, when they’re ready. The least I can do, is, is to…to try to be…a better me. So that, when they come back, I can tell them that I…I took care of their world for them. And I missed them.” Their voice breaks on that last, but their eyes are blazing bright in a way that’s not familiar to Sans, but which he thinks could-have-been.

“i think you’ve got the idea, kid,” he says, leaning back and closing his eyes, waiting for the world to fall away.

It doesn’t.

He opens his right eye slightly. The kid is staring at him again. Their expression is…indescribable.

“Sans,” they say.

“that’s my name,” he says.

They stand up, and extend a hand down to where he’s lying on the floor.

“I…I know it’s… _way_ too late to be sorry. For what I did. But I want to make a promise,” they insist.

Well, they’re right about the first bit. Sans is kind of looking forward to oblivion, which probably means he’s not long for this world even if the kid didn’t change their mind about the whole ‘erasing the universe’ thing.

“i don’t take those lightly,” he reminds them. “‘sides, you really wanna be making your promises to a dead man walking?”

It’s meant to be a pun about how he’s a skeleton, and skeletons are what dead humans turn into…and he’s not walking, he’s lying down…but he thinks maybe it _falls_ a little flat. Too bad. Most of the time Sans makes _killer_ jokes.

“I know what I’m doing,” the kid insists.

When Sans makes no move to take their hand or to stop them, they continue.

“I promise…that even if I can’t become a ‘good person,’ I…I’m gonna do what my siblings trusted me to do. I’m gonna do the right thing. And I—I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” they swear.

With the fire in their eyes, Sans might just believe it.

“heh. sure, kid. i’ll be watching,” he winks, and takes one hand out from behind his head to clasp theirs. He lets them pull him to his feet. “when you get your sibling back…make sure to introduce me, alright? dunno why, but i’ve got this crazy feeling we’d get along.—say, what’s your name again?”

The kid blinks.

“…Chara. And Frisk. I’m Chara, and my sibling’s name is Frisk. We’re…” they don’t seem to know how to finish.

That’s alright. Sans can step in.

“…determined?” he suggests drily.

The kid smiles—a real smile, this time, and they even chuckle a little. They fish under their shirt for something, and pull out a golden locket.

_Best Friends_ , it reads.

They put their arms around Sans’s neck, and he stutters for a moment, dumbfounded. The little golden chain falls against his collarbones, and the heart warms his chest.

“…thanks for the scarf,” they say, and then close their eyes.

The golden hallway burns orange, and then red, casting long, mirrored shadows away from the two figures at its center.

“Knowing everyone is waiting for you…it fills you with DETERMINATION.”

###  _00/00/0000: timeline 370:_

> _ xx/xx/0000: timelines 75-369 (nice): _

Weird. The pages of the notebook have been torn out here. All that remains is a golden locket and a hastily-scribbled note:

> _you’re about to make two new friends. you lucky dog. tell pap i love him & take care_

Sans snaps the notebook shut. What a weird note, past-him. What the hell ended almost 300 timelines? This old locket? How?

Somehow, he can’t be too worried about it, though. It’s just a weird feeling, but…

He thinks maybe everything is gonna be alright.

For the first time in a long, long time…the thought gives him a tiny spark of…

Uh. Resolve. Or willpower. Or something. Not…that thing you’re thinking. That sounds like a lot of work. No, thank you. Just a tiny spark of…he’ll call it life.

_welp_. He gets out of bed. Time to start a brand new day.

There’s rustling in the living room, so he sticks his head out and calls, “i'm going to grillby's. papyrus, do you want anything?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks y'all for reading! Please leave a comment & let me know what you thought :) And! If you have a second, listen to the podfic!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Trying Out a Maybe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771985) by [CoramDeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoramDeo/pseuds/CoramDeo)




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